worne

There are seldom more than a few lines together which possess any distinguishing merit, such as an indulgent editor has found in Bellula's exclamation when she first falls in love with Callidora: How red his cheekes are! so our garden apples Looke on that side where the hot Sun salutes them; (I. ii.) or in the lines with which Callidora prepares to meet death from her brother's sword: As sick men doe their beds, so have I yet Injoy'd my selfe, with little rest, much trouble: I have beene made the Ball of Love and Fortune, And am almost worne out with often playing; And therefore I would entertaine my death As some good friend whose comming I expected.